


Angels Are Watching Over You

by Seaki



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Addiction, M/M, Withdrawal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-03-31
Updated: 2012-06-02
Packaged: 2017-11-06 16:31:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/420964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seaki/pseuds/Seaki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam gets sick and wastes the last of his demon blood, going into withdrawal early, setting off a spiral of unfortunate events.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Withdrawal

**Author's Note:**

> I'll try to update this on Sundays, but I'm faulty at best. Please be patient with me! Also, some characters may be out of character, but I'm trying! This work has no beta.

Demon blood was a terrible addiction. Everyone knew that, but none so much as Sam. When he drank, sucking down the vile blood like a starving dog, it would burn. Not a pleasant burn, but like someone pressed hot iron to his organs as the new blood coursed through his veins.

But still, that horrid feeling was nowhere near as bad as not having demon’s blood coursing through his veins. Burns he could handle - burns were nothing.

But the feeling of someone tearing off every piece of you and putting you back together over and over again. It was a terrible feeling and it hurt. It hurt more than anything he’d ever experienced, and he was afraid of it.

He was afraid of the blinding pain, and he was afraid of the hallucinations.

He was afraid to lose himself, to not know the hallucinations from reality. He wanted to stop - he did, but he was afraid. And Dean - he wouldn’t understand. He knew Dean wouldn’t.

Which was why Sam was crouched in the bathroom, shaking, and trying to unscrew the cap on a vial of Demon’s blood he had nicked from Ruby before she had gone. Frustration and desperation creeped into him as his hands kept slipping and the pain got worse and worse.

A small sob of relief ripped from his throat as he finally uncapped the vial, tossing the contents back into his throat. He could already feel the pain lessening to a harsh burn and the shaking was already slowing.

The sobs didn’t stop however. Shame creeped up from his belly, biting at him as he crawled closer to the motel shower, curling up within the small basin of the bottom. He hated himself and if Dean knew... Dean would hate him too. 

Bile burned his throat and he felt like he could vomit, but he couldn’t - the blood would come back up.

This feeling happened often when he was first introduced to Demon Blood. It had taken two months before he actually stopped vomitting the blood back up while his body was still accepting it into his system. Slowly the feeling wore off though.

But this time, it was different. Dean knew now and he wanted him to stop. He didn’t know how though - how was he supposed to stop when it hurt so much.

Sam choked another sob, trying to hold the blood in his stomach. Her curled tighter, keeping his mouth clamped shut through the sobs that shook his body and the absolute self loathing that continued to torment his body.

In the end, the blood decided not to stay in his system. Sam leaned over the disgusting bowl of the motel’s toilet and heaved the red-black substance into the bowl.

After the third heave, he realized someone was holding his lengthening hair out of his face, but he couldn’t turn his face to look as bile and water a blood poured from his mouth. He felt like someone had set him on fire, but something pressed to the back of his neck was battling the flames.

And suddenly nothing was left in his stomach, but he body was still trying to reject what he had swallowed. The dry-heaves were painful and made his throat burn and his ribs ache.

He didn’t know how long he was heaving, but he was glad when they stopped. His body ached, but the blood... He flushed the contents of the toilet, pressing his eyes shut. The pain from the withdrawal would not doubt come soon - within an hour, two if he was lucky.

Sam was startled when he heard a voice sound from behind him. “You should be alright now, Samuel,” a rough, low voice stated. He gave a small jump, not expecting his brother’s angel to even be near him.

“Thank you, Cas,” Sam murmured, voice rough and scratchy. He shyed away from the angel, not wanting to force the Angel to be near him. Dean had probably asked the being to check on him or something. Sam murmured an apology, brushing the long hair out of his face. It stayed slicked back with the sweat that had previously made them stick awkwardly to his forehead.

Sam gave a small smile, not looking up at the Angel.

But Cas continued to stare at him, watching Sam’s every move, even as the tall, lanky man fiddles with the empty vial for a moment before recapping it and standing.

He watched at the young man stumbled, holding onto the sink to right himself, never looking the angel in the face. He stayed within the bathroom for a moment until he heard a crash within the room.

Cas sighed when he saw Sam had stumbled over and fallen - he was not a very elegant man when he was sick... Cas contemplated taking away the man’s pain but he rather felt the young man deserved it.

It was Sam’s fault for drinking the blood in the first place. He was an abomination. But he couldn’t really think that when Sam had simply curled in on himself instead of trying to move again. He couldn’t when a small sob choked from the youngest Winchester and he realized that he had been trying not to cry in front of him.

Cas was at a loss of what to do. This young man was obviously suffering, but he did not know whether or not he should help him. He had done so much wrong - so much that the Angels did not want him in the picture any longer.

He gave a sigh, pulling the young Winchester up like the tall man weighed little more than a feather. Startled, Sam had clung to him, a sob escaping from his broke-n concentration. Castiel set him in one of the beds, closest to the both of them.

“I’m sorry,” Sam murmured and he could feel the heaviness in the boy’s words and the genuine sorrow.

Castiel frowned, “What are you apologizing for...?” Sam curled up again, making himself almost impossibly small compared to his normal height. Tears were welling in the young one’s eyes and Cas settled next to Sam on the bed, sitting and brushing away some of the tears that had fallen.

Sam was so desperate not to be a bad person. He just wanted everyone to be safe and he thought, he believed, that what he was doing was right. Somewhere though, it had become a desperate need to not be in pain.

But maybe he deserved the pain.

Cas scowled when Sam didn’t answer, but his brow furrowed when the tall lanky man began shaking. He pressed a hand against Sam’s forehead, feeling a fever start to develop under Sam’s skin. He did not look healthy at all, but this was beyond him.

Castiel was at a loss for the first time in a long time...


	2. Rage

Hours later, Sam was still curled up on the bed shaking with fever. He had apologized to Castiel several times and began dry heaving again. He had tried to get some water down, but ended up spilling that back onto the floor seconds later.

He had cleaned it up himself, refusing to let an angel clean up his messes.

Castiel just hoped Dean would return soon. Perhaps he should not have told Dean of the blood - he had seen, but had not confronted Sam. Instead, he stalked off to the bar, planning on confronting his little brother later.

But Sam, he looked terrible. His eyes were dull and he kept apologizing like it would make a difference. A deep sadness filled Castiel when Sam began to pray - not for forgiveness, he didn’t expect that even though he apologized instantly, but to keep his brother safe, he simply asked if what he was doing had been right.

Castiel had to answer that it wasn’t, and Sam gave a small smile that made Cas’s chest ache in a strange way. It was such a broken smile, one of lost hope.

Sam was still shaking, face flushed and pale. He was desperate for demon blood, but there was no way he could get any. Ruby was long gone by now and Cas was there - he was deteriorating from a condition caused by something angels hated.

And he brought it among himself.

His fault, all his fault.

Sam had to run to the bathroom again, coughing into the toilet and new bile from his stomach made its way up his throat and into the toilet. The acid burned his mouth and senses. The heavy feeling of shame and guilt were renewed.

And Cas simply stared, watching the young winchester struggle with himself. Dean would be back soon, he could feel it. When the door clicked, unlocking, Cas disappeared. Dean would surely know what to do...

Dean, however, was still furious. All of it was directed towards his younger brother and that demon bitch. Sam stood at the door of the bathroom, staring at Dean for a moment before his eyes became downcast.

Sam wasn’t surprised when he felt the punches, but it didn’t stop the hurt and sorrow fill up the remaining space in his chest against the guilt and the shame. His own blood spilled to the floor and he refused to move, allowing Dean to release his anger.

He held back his tears and the absolute agony. His eye was already beginning to swell shut and bile was once again burning his throat.

Bruises the shape of shoes formed on his stomach and one of his ribs were cracked.

And Dean was gone, harsh words echoing in Sam’s ears.

Sam didn’t know how long he was laying there, but he was pulled up and placed in the Impala what seemed like hours later. He didn’t say anything as they drove, but he wished Cas was there. Cas was kind, cas pressed a cool cloth against his neck as he was sicking up and he held his hair back, as awkwardly girly as that was.

Cas made sure he was comfortable while he hurt.

And that was more than he could say for Dean at the moment. The absolute hate he had seen in Dean’s eyes made him give up. He honestly did not want to exist any longer.

Sam fell asleep as the fever worsened.


	3. Panic

When Sam awoke, he was in a small confined area. Well, not too small, but smaller than normal. He could hear the small swish of a fan and his body ached miserably. 

It took Sam a moment to realize that the fan from overhead was the one he had seen in the panic room. It took him a moment longer to confirm his thoughts as the agonizing fire gripped him and the feeling of knives piercing his body took his sight away for a moment.

And he was so... thirsty.

Sam gave a cry as he pulled himself from the bed in the reinforced room. The first step he took was shaky, but he made it to the door. He wondered if something had attacked them while he was out because for some reason he could not see from one of his eyes. He had to lean against the iron door, composing himself and trying to push away the pain.

Moments later, he opened the door. 

Or he tried to. The door was bolted shut, locked tight. He jiggled the handle and tugged hoping that the door was simply stuck. Panic rose in the pit of his stomach as he realized the door would not open.

"Dean!" he called desperately even though his throat ached. He didn't know how long he was calling, but his voice gave out and he stopped trying. 

So he was locked in Bobby’s panic room, tucked away like some freak of nature. He closed his eyes tight at the thought, heavy against his body. He knew he was. Maybe it was for the best that they had locked him away. 

Sam was curled against the cold iron door when he heard a soft fluttering sound. He lifted his eyes, red with pain, to see the brown of the trench coat. Cas. He tried to call the Angel’s name, but he couldn’t even whimper with his throat scratched and raw. 

He wanted to cry right at this moment, hoping that the angel would turn around and look at him. He nearly sobbed in relief when Cas turn, brow furrowed in confusion. “Why are you on the floor?” He asked, stepping closer to the boy with demon blood

Sam couldn’t answer though. He opened his mouth had gave a gave a cough. He curled in on himself, covering his mouth with his arms. It took a long moment of the violent barks to subside, but his throat hurt now more than ever. He pulled back, hands dripping with blood, and his face scrunched in disgust. 

Cas moved over to him, pulling him from the floor. He could feel the hurt in his throat lessening, but only a little. He was pressed onto the bed by the (un)surprisingly strong angel. Sam gave another weak cough in response and curled halfway into himself. 

“Cas,” he croaked out, and the angel sat in the space Sam’s large body didn’t take up. His back was pressed to Sam’s stomach, and he could feel the hot skin even through the layers of clothing between them. 

“Shhh,” he hushed the prone figure. Cas brushed his fingers against Sam’s forehead, feeling the sweat from the fever and frowning. He couldn’t heal this - a symptom of the withdrawal, but he could allow Sam to sleep through it. He brushed the sticky hair away from Sam's face. "Sleep now," he murmured, pressing his fingers briefly against Sam’s forehead, coaxing him to unconsciousness with a simple brush of grace. 

Sam gave a small whimper before dropping off, and Castiel tried not to think on it too much. But he couldn’t help but stay to make sure Sam would wake up. He brushed his hands soothingly through Sam’s hair, chasing away the pain and panic if only for a brief moment.


End file.
